A Mirror in Hypertext..

Here’s an excerpt from my wedding website, the part where he and myself write about our story.But only my story will be quoted here hehe..

Please note that this website will be announced only after everything is settled, meaning after he has met my parents and the wedding date is determined. So stay tuned friends!

Her story
I just finished one of my very first classes for the semester in my final year. It was very interesting and I was very much excited to start my IT project on it. I chose to walk back to my apartment instead of taking the campus bus. As I walked through the gardens of USM, I saw a guy just getting off the bus. He had an amused look on his face. Unamused, I continued walking.

Once I walked out of the campus gates and was just about to cross the road, I realized a very handsome looking guy, dressed in cream colored slacks, a white t-shirt and an unbuttoned blue checked shirt, crossing the road.Little did I realize that this was the same guy who had the amused look on his face.

"Hmmm.." I said to myself. This guy has the whole package. But with the looks that he has, I bet he has a girlfriend already.

Looking right and left,I crossed Jalan Sungai Dua. As I crossed, I realized his eyes were following my every step on the other side of the road.

Feeling a little self-conscious, I stepped on the sidewalk and I gingerly crossed over the open sewer instead of jumping over it.

Entering the apartment grounds, I found him already there, with a flirtatious smile on his face. "Hi! Baru pindah ke?" he asked politely.

I turned, and simply said ‘yeah’ in reply. All the sudden, it began to rain. Funny, retelling this story to my housemates prompted them to say how it was similar to a Bollywood film story..hahaha…

Anyway, I ran to the nearest apartment building, while he simply put a hand over his head. I sensed that he wanted to talk to me again, but feeling frightened, I thought of going to my best friend’s apartment building instead.

But, at the same time, I felt really guilty for bugging Zarin too often. I had crashed at her place during my apartment hunting.

So, rather relunctantly, I walked on the path to my apartment building. Hearing my steps behind him, ‘that cute guy’ stopped dead on his tracks to allow me to catch up with him.

"First year ke?" he asked. "Nope, final year". I replied rather shyly. "Eh, kenapa tak pernah nampak?" he asked. I simply smiled in reply.

We walked to the elavators together. I carefully looked at our reflection on the big windows of the common room. I noted how we are almost of the same height.

Upon reaching the elavators, we talked about our majors. Interstingly, he was taking the same course as my cousin, Furqan.

Once inside the elavator, I observed he pressed the number 7, while I pressed my floor number, 15. We chatted a little, about our respective apartments but within minutes, we have arrived on his floor.

He casually asked for my name on his way out, and not forgetting to tell me his. Honestly, I didn’t hear it quite well. But now, his name has always been implanted deep in my heart. Izurin Azman Bakti, my love, my sweetheart, my everything…

God, time does fly. It has been almost 2 years, and it felt like yesterday when I first landed on Canadian soil.

And no, there was not even a drop of tear when I left Jakarta for Montreal. Not that I won’t miss my family, but I’ve became so accustomed to living away from them.

But I would undoubtedly cry buckets as I say goodbye to the country I call home for 2 years.

Say goodbye to the freezing winter, colorful autumn, tulips of spring and festivals in the summer. Say goodbye to my beautiful riverside apartment, my prestigious university, and lovely friends.

I cherish many fond memories of living here. Memories of boating on the Niagra falls, sliding down a snowy hill and even walking in a snow storm. Memories of the friendships I’ve made, the dishes I cooked for my beloved friends, and the parties we held.

Nonetheless, I look forward to living a new life with possibly new challenges in a new environment, and hopefully one day in the near future, with a new husband.

Hopefully…

Always remember to forget, the things that made you sad

But never forget to remember the things that made you glad.

Always remember to forget the friends that proved to be untrue

But don’t forget to remember those that have stuck by you.

Always to remember to forget the troubles that had passed away

But never forget to remember the blessings that come each day.

These were the words I found framed in my friend’s house yesterday, which as many things that I see and hear, would provoke many thoughts. My boyfriend had often expressed his views on my difficulty to forget the past, making me the panaroid person that I describe myself to be.

Nonetheless, I believe it would be immature and stupid if we do not reflect on our past experiences. Every step we take, every words we say must reflect deep thinking of its possible consequences.

But I admit, sometimes we do need to take a leap of faith, and hope things would turn out ok. Hope that all the trust, love and respect that we invest in each other would prove to be worthwhile. Hope that our dreams, aspirations, and amibitions are attained.

Or more simply, just hope for the best.

Some say time heals everthing, but right now nothing can change what has happened. I’m so depressed that I want to runaway from everything.

Happiness is something no one can buy - not even fame. As the case of the late Anna Nicole Smith, she was not happy despite her abundant wealth. Some people may see me as a very lucky person. And yes, I do feel I should be more grateful.

I should be grateful that I am given the privilege to study overseas with a full scholarship. Grateful to have a loving family and someone special who loves me. But lately, I feel as if the closest people to me simply don’t know me.

I’ve been so restricted and constricted in my life. From how I should dress, what to pursue on..Although I admit, they have the best intentions and I am obliged to listen. And yet, there are times when I feel so depressed and frustrated.

I have dreams and ambitions which have never been fulfilled. Right now, I’ve only fulfilled the wishes of other people - I’ve made everyone happy except myself.

Now is my turn.

I guess human beings are born to be ungrateful. Thus, I repent and sincerely hope I can regain my strength to continue life with all its obstacles and challenges.

Bismillah..

In the meantime, I turn to shopping to satisfy myself. I feel satisfied when I buy things I wouldn’t be able to buy if I wasn’t alone. I feel satisfied that I can buy things for my loved ones and see their happiness once I present the gifts. The hundreds of dollars I spent for oleh-oleh for my immediate family are incomparable with the satisfaction I attained.

I’ve also turned to shopping as a way to runaway from my problems. Shopping has been and I presume will always be associated with women. Although I am not a shopacholic, I consider shopping as more than just buying one’s necessities or keeping up with the latest trends. But it’s a way to liberate oneself from the mechanisms of domination.

Well, it is for me anyway. And no doubt, many will contest this.

I just hope it won’t lead me to bankruptcy!

Lelaki Acuan Al-Quran Ialah
Seorang Lelaki Yang Beriman
Yang Hatinya Disaluti
Rasa Taqwa Kepada Allah SWT
Yang Sentiasa Haus Dengan Ilmu
Yang Sentiasa Dahaga Dengan Pahala
Yang Solatnya Adalah Maruah Dirinya
Yang Tidak Pernah Takut Berkata Benar
Yang Tidak Pernah Gentar Untuk Melawan Nafsu

Lelaki Acuan Al-Quran
Ialah Lelaki Yang Menjaga Tuturkatanya
Yang Tidak Bermegah Dengan Ilmu Yang Dimilikinya
Yang Tidak Bermegah Dengan Harta Dunia Yang Dicarinya
Yang Sentiasa Berbuat Kebaikan Kerana Sifatnya Yang Pelindung
Yang Mempunyai Ramai Kawan Dan Tidak Mempunyai Musuh
Yang Bersifat Jembalang

Lelaki Acuan Al-Quran Ialah
Lelaki Yang Menghormati Ibubapanya
Yang Sentiasa Berbakti Kepada Kedua Orang Tua Dan
KeluargaYang Bakal Menjaga Keharmonian Rumahtangga
Yang Akan Mendidik Anak-Anak
Dan Isteri Mendalami Agama Islam
Yang Mengamalkan Hidup Penuh Kesederhanaan
Kerana Dunia Baginya Adalah
Rumah Sementara Menunggu Akhirat
Sentiasa Bersedia Untuk Agamanya

I’m so confused. Given the liberty to choose any topic for my research project has left me completely bewildered. I have several excellent topics in mind, but if I really wanted to pursue the topic, it can take me 7 – 8 months. This is the first time I’ve been very passionate about my studies. Finally, I’ve found a topic that can bridge my knowledge in computer science and education. I’ve always been fascinated by the advancement of technology. Moreover, this project could be very profitable in the future. But my highest hope is to pursue it further for my doctorate. This is also why this project must be ‘sophisticated’. Hence, allowing me to “promote” this project to my future sponsors.

Honestly, I used to hate my masters program. I never dreamt of pursuing a degree in social science. I’m a mathematician but believe me, I never really liked mathematics. That is why, I was so determined to pursue my masters in the field that I’m so passionate about and loved. Unfortunately, fate led me here. And now, I’m just trying to make the best of things…

Granted that I have sufficient time, I honestly want to stay here as long as I can. Or even apply to become a permanent resident here. I’ve always dreamt of living overseas, just like this, and I don’t want to ever leave. I’m totally in love with Canada. Montreal is my dream city – full of fashion and style. Walking down town, I honestly feel as if I was surrounded by models. Everyone is so elegantly dressed. And how I wish to be apart of this culture. Going off to work, dressed in an elegant suit and briefcase…just like them..

But then again, I’m planning to get engaged and married this year. Besides the fact that my biological clock is ticking away, I truly love him. Yes, there are other guys who wish to be with me too- even Canadians. But I can’t wait to start a family with him, to become his wife and a mother of his children. I can’t wait to settle down and decorate my house. I can’t wait to experiment with my cooking…but this would also mean leaving Montreal and my other dreams behind…

Our plan was to get engaged on my birthday and held the wedding on his. I’ve already postponed it last year, and we do not plan to postpone it any longer. Besides, it’s so unbearable to live so far apart from each other…how I wish to be 19 again…then life would be so different…

Below are the lyrics of "I can’t hate you anymore" by Nick Lachey..It’s such a touching and deep song that enabled me to reflect on myself. No, I am not going through a breakup but it made me understand how one can suffer because of love and yet be so forgiving. Thankfully my relationship is strong as ever despite the pitfalls that we’ve encountered.

I did not build a relationship only to watch it fall apart and I did not love someone only to let him go…So, to those insensitive people who expect me to dump my loving and adorable soon-to-be hubby can get lost!

An empty room can be so deafening,
The silence makes you wanna scream,
It drives you crazy.
I chased away the shadows of your name,
And burned the picture in a frame,
But it couldn’t save me.

And how could we quit something we never even tried,
Well you still can’t tell me why.

We built it up,
To watch it fall.
Like we meant nothing at all.
I gave and gave the best of me,
But couldn’t give you what you need.
You walked away,
You stole my life,
Just to find what your looking for.
But no matter how I try,
I can’t hate you anymore.
…I can’t hate you anymore.

You’re not the person that who you used to be,
The one I want who wanted me,
And that’s a shame but,
There’s only so many tears that you can cry.
Before it drains the light right from your eyes,
And I can’t go on that way.
And so I’m letting go of everything we were,
It doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.

We built it up,
To watch it fall.
Like we meant nothing at all.
I gave and gave the best of me,
But couldn’t give you what you need.
You walked away,
You stole my life,
Just to find what your looking for.
But no matter how I try,
I can’t hate you anymore.

Sometimes you hold so tight,
It slips right through your hands.
Will I ever understand?

We built it up,
To watch it fall.
Like we meant nothing at all.
I gave and gave the best of me,
But couldn’t give you what you need.
You walked away,
You stole my life,
Just to find what your looking for.
But no matter how I try,
I can’t hate you anymore.

My headscarf blew gently against the early autumn wind, as my friend and I walked briskly towards the city centre in an urban part of Montreal. Dressed casually in a long denim skirt and blouse, my friend too, was dressed in modest Moslem attire.

As we entered the mall, the warmth of the heating that circulated in the building enveloped our shivering bodies.

We have just arrived in Canada for over a month, and were not used to the cold weather. Both born from a tropical South-eastern country where its intense heat darkens bare skin, its pollution level so high that the small particles of dust and chemicals can barely be filtered through the nostril hairs and its culture colors the diversity of its people.

Canada was a lot different from home.

Striding past shops, peering at the windows once in a while, we noticed something strange about the people around us.

It may have been my imagination, but people looked at us in a peculiar manner. Or so I thought. Chills ran down my spine.

What was wrong? I had not been stared this way before in any of my outings. But, we took no heed of the stares, determined to enjoy our day out.

Suddenly an immaculately dressed elderly man walked by, and uttered a disgraceful word at us. “Terrorists!” he sneered.

Shocked, we stood frozen in our tracks. It was the 3^rd of October 2005 – a day after the second Bali bombing attacks. Islamic terrorists were the main suspects of the attack.

Now I understood the stares.

My Pan-Asian looks, waist-long dark brown hair that is veiled behind my headscarf, dark brown eyes and fair skin could easily deceive people from guessing my nationality, thanks to my hybrid descendants. But my friend, had looks of a typical Indonesian woman.

The small island of Bali is one of the thousands of islands in our country. Indonesia, known as a small replica of the world with the diversity of its people and culture, has been under close scrutiny of the World with its recent bombing attacks that caused ripples throughout the Moslem world.

And Islam, the religion of the ‘terrorists’ is criticized by the media for its extremist teachings that impulses these terrorists to wage a holy war against the ‘infidels’.

But, this is an unfair portrayal of Islam and Moslems. The word ‘Islam’ in fact means peace, and history can bear witness to how the Islamic empire during its height ruled with peace and harmony.

And it is most unfair to wrongly blame Moslems in general for the attacks of a handful of men.

Moslems like my friend and me.

Joe Kincheloe in his book, Miseducation of the West asserts that the misdeeds of the American empire have been an important role in the formation of an Islamist extremism that disregards its sacred teachings. He argues further that schools in the West have also played an important role in the portrayal of anti-Islamic sentiments.

It is arguably understandable that a problem should not be divorced from its context. But what kind of misdeeds has caused such vehement anger amongst Moslems?

Kincheloe puts forth evidence of corporate conspiracy of the oil industry in the Middle-East and America’s involvement in the internal state affairs that only benefit the American empire as one cause of this antagonism.

11^th September also marked a historical moment when two planes crashed into WTC. A historical moment that has shocked the entire world.

But having lived in the West and the East, I’ve heard two different perspectives. In the East, evidence of a conspiracy between the CIA and MOSSAD has been circulating around. On the other hand, the Western perspective has consistently blamed the Islamic terrorists.

So which perspective should one believe?

Shirley Steinbergh’s chapter on on Dessert Minstrels: Hollywood’s Curriculum of Arabs and Muslims in Miseducation of the West explains how popular culture also plays a role in the distorted and demonized view of the Islamic World; through video games, edutainment CD-ROMS and films.

But why is there a need to portray Islam in such a way? Why does the West greatly fear Islam?

Kincheloe stresses the Islamic threat to US global dominance fills the enemy vacuum after the fall of the Communist bloc perfectly.

This Islamic threat is much bigger than the holy war that the extremist wage. It is the threat of the formation of an Islamic empire that will bring forth its own social, political and economic system.

This empire will threaten the interests of capitalism, neo-liberalism and consumerism.

Only the bombardment of anti-Islamic sentiments in the media and popular culture will confirm how threatening this empire will be. 

And the war of interests will begin.

With the click of my mouse, thousands of mega bytes travel through my DSL line at lightning speed. As I keyed in my secret password, the letters and numbers are then encrypted with mathematical formulas.

An unknown agent validates my entry. Now, I have the passport to enter the virtual world.

The four corners of my screen were delightfully colored with various hyperlinks that will allow me to travel to different parts of this borderless world.

The notion of the borderless world is exciting as it is intriguing. At a time when crossing over an international border would require tedious validation and approval, venturing into cyberspace needs not the validation or approval.

Only the entering of restricted sites does one require such validation. And even so, this validation can be acquired through the numbers of one’s credit card in a matter of seconds.

Embarking on a journey in cyberspace, one could experience virtual ‘feels’ of shopping, socializing and interacting.

Sounds, graphics, pictures, and animations greeted me as I click from one page to another, browsing through the sea of texts. 

As I click my way through the virtual world, I found myself on blogsphere. Intrigued, I browsed and searched for more.

Blogsphere is one particular cyber-phenomenon that is gaining popularity. Weblogs is the online version of journals, where anyone can create a personal website of their own. Personal stories such as what the person had for lunch to political issues are voiced through this uncensored media.

But isn’t an online journal oxymoronic?

Not according to Viviane Serfaty in her book The mirror and the veil, as she asserts that self-representational writing have been flourishing in the virtual world as a means of self-expression that begs for explanation than bewilderment.

She argues that, this uncensored means of self-expression celebrates the notion of democracy and freedom without regards to race and background.

David Kline and Dan Burstein in their book Blog! – how the newest media revolution is changing politics, business and culture explains how this time in history marks a unique moment that encourages people to converse, communicate, argue publicly, and learn collaboratively in line with the fast paced technology of the twenty-first century.

Amongst the sea of words and pixels an unheard voice speaks above the noise : the voice of an ordinary citizen. With blogging, the ordinary citizen can re-engage in the long-lost art of public conversation, and allow their words and ideas be published for at least a small audience.

And yet, though one may think this may not have a significant impact, James F. Moore of Harvard’s Berkman Center for Internet & Society has dubbed blogging as “the second superpower”.

This superpower is not a rival of the United States, but the global social force that have regained their consciousness and power to invent, act and change the world.

Contrary to other forms of media production, blogging allows instantaneous dialogue about world events. This power is not to be undermined.

But exactly how ‘uncensored’ is it? Though it needs not any prior censoring before it is published, it is nevertheless under the careful eyes of the ‘cyberpolice’.

The Chinese government for instance, has issued a series of edicts as a means of controlling and constraining the spread of blogs that supports revolutionary ideas.

So, is it really democratic? Although I do agree to a certain extent of how blogging raises the voice of an ordinary citizen, I very much doubt that it does raise the voice of the ordinary farmer in the rural parts of China or any other rural areas in the world for that matter.

The internet, like any other technology, is a luxury for millions of people in the

Third World. In fact, with 80 million beggars and 24,000 people die each day of hunger in the world, I doubt that these people have even touched a computer.

And there is the notion of the digital divide- between those who have access to technology and those who don’t.

In Michel Beaujour’s words, “writing enables direct access to the consciousness of individuals; we can hope to see the world through their eyes as reflected in their writing. A mirror in ink-a transfer from the inside to the outside”.

But how reflective is the mirror in hypertext? Does it reflect the consciousness of the poor peasant in the rural parts of the world?

I think not.